


Late night visitor (oneshot)

by Trashcan_mar



Category: Half-Life, Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Does take place in a au kind of, Drinking & Talking, M/M, Not supposed to be very shippy, Oneshot, Pre-Canon, implied their together/hooking up, somewhat fluff, takes place in 70s, wrote this a while back so it might be a bit wonky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashcan_mar/pseuds/Trashcan_mar
Summary: Sometimes your employees just break into your house and steal your wine. Totally normal.
Relationships: Wallace Breen/Cave Johnson
Kudos: 1





	Late night visitor (oneshot)

**Author's Note:**

> small context, this takes place in an au where Breen worked with Aperture science.

It was late at night. A younger Cave Johnson couldn’t sleep. He found himself lost in thought. One idea hopping to another. He sat up in his king-sized bed. He mainly focused on his breathing as it was that quiet. Other than the house settling there was nothing else really. His mouth started to feel dry. Johnson pulled the covers off of him and grabbed his robe. He was off to get a glass of water. He walked down the hallway and eventually reached the stairs. 

As he was about to head downstairs until he saw the kitchen light was on. Then he noticed the muffled sounds of someone rattling through his cabinets. Johnson thought this couldn’t be a normal home invader. If a window was broken he would’ve heard it if they used the door the alarm would’ve gone off, so either they know the passcode or they somehow been in here the whole time. 

Johnson carefully made it downstairs, as soon as he got down there he grabbed the fireplace poker. In his mind, he singled it down to one of his employees, as Caroline was the only other person who had a spare key and knew the passcode too. Knowing his staff, and being a pretty big man, he knew he could take them. He stood in the kitchen opening and was met with a familiar face, a younger gent with dirty blonde hair. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” He said with a snide smile, as he reached for a wine glass. Johnson narrowed his eyes at him. He had wished that it was a home invader now. With an annoyed sigh, he asked,

“What the hell are you doing here, Breen?” Johnson threw the poker to the side, as Breen slid a wine glass in his hands. 

“I was bored, and I knew you would be up,” Breen answered the younger man pulled out a wine bottle from a bottom cabinet. 

“What if I wasn’t awake?” Johnson asked with a snarl, Breen laughed,

“Then I would just be having wine alone,” he said as if the question was rhetorical, Breen stood in front of Johnson. A Brief glare and Breen passed him with the wine glass and bottle. 

“Didn’t take you as a white wine kind of guy,” Breen commented, Johnson turned as his whole living room was lit up. A quick pop and he pours himself some wine. Johnson groaned and joined Breen on the couch. He held out his empty glass and Breen happily filled it with wine. 

The two drank in silence. Breen analyzed the room, it felt up to date with the era. He soon noticed a small shelf full of records. Then his eyes found a phonograph, it was covered but Breen instantly recognized the shape of it. His eyes soon drift to his drinking buddy for tonight. He was already pouring himself a second. Breen then downed his drink and turned to Johnson,

“Forgot to say this last time but your outdoor cats are very friendly.” Johnson raised an eyebrow to the remark, and then he remembered,

“Oh, those little bastards aren’t mine they're my neighbor's,” He scoffed, he looked down at his glass. Breen let out a laugh and snatched the bottle from the older man. Soon enough, Johnson started ranting about his crazy cat lady neighbor and about how the cats would leave dead rodents on his porch. The younger man listened though he would tone out the older man sometimes. 

“What kind of records are those?” Breen asked Johnson was cut-off mid-rant, and his attention fell on the shelf. 

“Old pop, blues, and Jazz, if you’re thinking of playing some tunes I’m not sure that old phonograph even works anymore,” Johnson replied, yet that didn’t stop Breen from waltzing over there and yanking the cover off it. The dust erupted from beneath. Johnson snickered as Breen coughed up what felt like a dust bunny or two. 

“Sadist.” Breen coughed, Johnson held a smug smirk on his. The young scientist grabbed a random record and placed it in the phonograph. Then Breen swung around to grab his glass. Their eyes meant and they both laughed. No real reason why maybe the alcohol was finally setting in. 

“What are we, Breen?” Johnson asked him, Breen didn’t answer at first and focused on getting the old machine on. As soon as he did he whipped around to face Johnson. Breen leaned back on the shelf. They both took small sips of their drink,

“What we are, well, we are human if you’re asking in general. I think that in our field of work our humanity is a bit stained. If that makes… sense?” Breen lingered on the last part, the music replaced the silence.   
The music was that stereotypical fifties jazz. A bit distorted, that part might’ve been the phonograph. It wasn’t too loud either.

“Relationship wise, that’s more complicated,” Breen stated, 

“It’s like… it’s like layers, best I can put it, that the first layer is hate. I can conclude that we both know the reason why. The second layer is attraction, not love per se say, more like… we both yearn for something more. Though, wrong place, wrong time. At the very core of it is mutual respect. Yet, that’s my understanding of us.” he finished, Johnson hummed, as if he didn’t expect such a deep analysis. Breen snickered and walked over to the couch. 

“Where’s this side of you when you’re working?” He questioned, Breen, lifted his fingers to his lips,

“Shh! No talk about work,” his hand dropped back to his side, Johnson just slowly shook his head. Breen paced around, maybe he was fully drunk or maybe he was thinking, while Johnson placed the bottle on a nearby coffee table. 

“Hey, Cave, wanna dance?” Breen asked, and he set his glass down, Johnson stretched as few small pops were heard. Breen gave Johnson a big smile. 

“Tomorrow is a workday, so you get one dance,” he said, as the two started to slow dance. Both subconsciously knew that they weren’t capable of anything too crazy. Breen had his arm around Johnson’s waist as the other one was entangled with his. His head rested on his boss’s shoulder. 

Johnson starred down at Breen. The phrase ‘wrong place, wrong time’ played over and over again. It just made each moment that passed feel more and more temporary.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how to explain that these two don't work and if you see that then congrats and if you don't then that's okay. Again I didn't do the greatest of jobs of showing it off.


End file.
